The Witching Hour
by jazwriter
Summary: A bit of fluff with a twist of eroticism. Written during the Halloween season. In response to a writing class assignment, Andy writes about a song that reminds her of Miranda, not realizing it'll be published. Previously posted on LJ. Mirandy FEMSLASH
1. Chapter 1

**The Witching Hour**

Author: JAZWriter/JAZWriter13

Pairing: Miranda/Andrea, The Devil Wears Prada

Disclaimer: I do not own The Devil Wear Prada, its characters, or any songs (particularly Witch Doctor and Witchy Woman), not even my own house (until I finish paying the mortgage which will not happen any time soon thanks to the economy and the resulting negative equity in my and half my state's homes). I digress. I am not profiting from this story (except through positive comments which feed my Muse). It is created through the fair use doctrine or some such pish-posh.

Rating: NC-17

Special Thanks to my betas: I really just threw this at them with no notice about a week ago and begged for guidance. So, thank you, peetsden and quiethearted.

Author Notes: This is a little PWP (that means Plot, What Plot?) that demanded my attention. If you blink, you'll miss it (the plot!). Really, it's just a bit of fun.

Author's Notes, Too: Nearly a year ago, I wrote my first DWP story in response to the 2009 Spookfest Challenge issued on the Janeway/Seven Faction board. That story is called Facades and can be found here. I guess I'm a bit of a sentimentalist since I wanted to write another Halloween story in celebration.

This story consists of two parts. That's right—just two. Really.

Part 1

"Hey, Lily, come on in," Andy called through her door as she picked up her sweater from the floor and threw it past the bedroom doorway onto her bed. Turning around, Andy scanned the living room, making sure no other personal items littered the hardwood floors. Satisfied, she turned her attention to Lily who was placing pizza and beer on the coffee table.

"Andy, do you have any clean plates?" Lily asked.

Andy smirked as she detoured to the kitchen. Opening the white cabinet over the sink, Andy retrieved two cocoa-colored stoneware plates. Andy noticed how the cabinets' white paint was worn and dingy. Fingerprint smudges decorated the door edges. Sighing in frustration, Andy told herself she needed to leave this place, this apartment, with all its memories and failures and…dirt. In the next cabinet she found two clean highball glasses, preferring not to drink beer from the can. _So plebian._ The pronouncement ran through her mind in a voice sounding eerily similar to her former boss's breathy tone.

Shaking her head to jar such thoughts away—thoughts of Miranda Priestly, Editor-in-Chief of _Runway_ and star of one-too-many erotic dreams—Andy joined her friend on the slightly-worn gingham-patterned couch. Andy efficiently loaded plates and glasses with their casual dinner as Lily prattled about her week. This was a well-rehearsed routine for them. Andy knew better than to interrupt her friend while she ranted about the upper-crust's particular artistic tastes and their whimsical requests for private showings and their arrogant, aristocratic bearing. Lily loved to provide examples of just how ridiculous their demands were whenever she had the opportunity.

In Andy's humble opinion, Lily had no clue. She had very little insight as to the pressures and stresses that affected the rich, the powerful, those in the public eye. Lily may interact with them to a limited extent, may even have witnessed the paparazzi while working at some of the more publicized gallery events, but she made sweeping assumptions that amused, frustrated, and angered Andy depending on the day.

Finally, Lily's weekly report wound down. Andy smirked. Lily grinned. "So, girlfriend. What's up with you?" Lily asked before biting into a slice of pepperoni pizza.

"Well, I'm taking that creative writing course at Columbia. I had it today. We were given an interesting assignment." Andy bit into own piece, rolling her eyes upward at the pure goodness kissing her taste-buds. There was something to be said for really good pizza—something like "hell, yes!" or "halleluiah" or "if I can't be having sex with Miranda Priestly, this will have to do." Andy shook her head, dismayed at just how easily Miranda slipped into her thoughts.

Of course she couldn't be having sex with Miranda Priestly. She was unattainable, larger-than-life, adored, revered, and feared by all, including Andy. She had no chance of getting anywhere near Miranda, never mind kissing, caressing, and fucking her until she passed out in a frothing heap of sweaty, satiated bliss. And, God, wouldn't Andy give anything to see Miranda disheveled and stripped to her glorious, nude form. Just once before she died. Was she asking for too much? Was she reaching for the stars here? Not really. Well, probably.

But, no. That would never happen, and these fantasies served only to taunt Andy with the cruel truth that Miranda was living her life without a spare thought about Andy. As she should be. Andy had deserted Miranda when she had needed her most. With a divorce looming on the horizon and internal politicking the norm at _Runway_, Andy could not have picked a worse time to exercise her self-righteousness gene by walking away during Paris Fashion Week. Andy sighed, tired of thinking about the past, tired of mentally beating Miranda up, herself up, and the situation in general. She had to move on, dammit!

"Helloooo?" Andy blinked as a hand waved in front of her unfocused eyes. "You in there?" Lily asked.

"Oh! Sorry. I was just…thinking." Andy shrugged her shoulders. She didn't want to talk about it.

"About the course?" Andy decided to nod. So she did. She nodded. Yep. The course.

"He gave us an assignment to relate a song to a real life experience with a particular person and explain it. It's interesting since some songs just pop in my head when I am with someone. Like with you, I think of that time we walked down Main Street when it was raining—remember? We were in the eighth grade?"

Lily began laughing, "Oh, yeah! We started dancing and singing that Earth, Wind & Fire song, and we did this," Lily stood up and pushed her hands down in front of her several times as she rolled her shoulders forward in sequence.

"Right! The song wasn't Earth, Wind & Fire, though. It was KC & the Sunshine Band."

"No, no. Wait! It was the Commodores, wasn't it?" Lily scratched her head as she scrunched her face in thought.

Andy got off the couch and joined Lily. She tried to remember that day. Mainly she could feel the memory, their shared connection on the warm summer day when the rain showers had begun as they'd walked toward the sub shop. Andy started to do the hand motions Lily had just done, then moved her hands behind her back to continue the pushing-down motion. She bent at the knees, pretending to sit down each time. "Oh! That's it! Get your back up off the wall."

"Dance! Come on!" Lily chimed in. "Yeah! Kool & the Gang."

"Yeah." Andy flopped on the couch while chuckling. "Get Down on It. That's the name of the song."

"That was fun. Back then. The good ole days," Lily said dreamily.

Andy snorted. "Do you hear yourself? You're getting old, Lils!" Andy smacked her friend on the arm.

"It's true, Andy! We are getting older. Those were simpler times. Fun times."

"Mmm. Well, Keep on Movin' from Soul II Soul seems to be my theme song for the last two years," Andy admitted.

Lily seemed to sober a bit at that pronouncement. "But, you're happier now, aren't you? I mean, I know the _Mirror_ isn't exactly what you'd hoped, but you're on the right track. And, you are making it, Andy."

"Sure, Lil. I'm fine. Really. I just wish…I just wish." Andy shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I have time and a full life ahead of me. It's getting better every day. I'm making it better." Not wanting to get too serious, Andy took a swig of her beer and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand while smacking her lips loudly. "Aahh! Yummy good." Lily laughed. The moment passed. Life continued.

"So, this assignment. What song are you going use?" Lily asked.

"Oh, who knows. I could write about us and that song or something more recent." Andy's mind returned to Miranda, and she smiled. "Do you want to know what song I always associate with Miranda?" she asked softly. She tended to tread carefully when mentioning Miranda to Lily.

Once Andy had left _Runway_, she and Lily had taken a "break" from each other. After a few lonely months, Lily had knocked on Andy's door, Chinese takeout and wine in hand and an apologetic smile on her face. Lily had admitted to being a bit jealous at being displaced so completely in Andy's life. She hadn't minded Nate's position since they, with Doug, had spent so much time together, but Miranda was an unknown and unwanted addition to their comfortable world. At that time Lily hadn't been exposed to the pressures of professional life to such an extent. She hadn't understood. Last year, though, Lily had admitted that many of her friends held jobs just as demanding as _Runway_ had been. Andy had accepted the words as they were meant—Lily's way of acknowledging that she understood, finally.

"All the Right Moves by OneRepublic?" Lily guessed. Andy laughed and shook her head.

"Nope. You'll never guess, so I'll just tell you." Andy rubbed her hands on her thighs. "Well, it's really silly. The song is Witch Doctor." Seeing Lily's confused expression, Andy added, "Alvin and the Chipmunks made it famous. Ew-ee-ew-ah-ah-ting-tang-walla-walla-bing-bang. Ew-ee-ew-ah-ah-ting-tang-walla-walla-bing-bang." Andy paused to determine whether Lily recognized the song. Oh, yeah, judging by how she was holding her stomach tightly as she laughed loudly, she knew the song.

"Oh, oh, my God, Andy! What the, what the hell?" Lily wheezed.

Andy agreed that she should explain her song choice. "I know, I know. But, Lily, that's how I always felt around her—I'd totally freeze up, and my conversation skills became nonexistent. She reduced me to spouting gibberish constantly. Just one look, one cocked eyebrow, one glare—I lost all control. And then one day, that song started running through my head." Andy let out a gusty sigh. "That was the worst because from that moment on I had a theme song running through my mind each and every time she reprimanded me." Andy glared at Lily when she began laughing again. "It wasn't funny. It was horrible! I had such a crush on her and then with that song…" Andy trailed off. _Oops. Shit._

"Wait. You had a crush on her?" Lily asked. "And I'm just hearing about this now? Two years later?" Lily's eyes rounded in surprise before narrowing in anger. "Andy!"

"It was just, just hero worship or some kind of fan-girl crush or something. It was confusing and frightening and weird. I thought it would wear off as time passed, but it didn't."

"Andy!" Lily leaned forward. "Were you in love with her? Is that why you stopped trying with Nate?"

"In love? Who, who said anything about being in love?" Andy laughed shakily as she ran her fingers through her hair. "No way. No. Way. And my infatuation with Miranda had nothing to do with Nate or our breakup."

"That's not true, and you know it. Miranda had everything to do with your breakup," Lily replied hotly.

"Okay. Okay. I see your point, but it was more about the amount of time I was spending at work, not Miranda herself. Hell, Lily, I spend just as much time at the _Mirror_. I had to fight to get Sundays off just so I could take this class." Andy took a deep breath, trying to relax. She gazed at her friend. "We've been through this a hundred times. Even if I had worked somewhere else, Nate and I would have broken up eventually. And look at how well he's doing in Boston."

"Well, that's true. He and Jane seem really happy together, and he loves working at the Oak Room," Lily acknowledged.

"Exactly. I'm happy for him, Lily. I couldn't have supported him the way he needs. So, we all grew up and moved on. It's fine." Andy paused to gather her thoughts. "You know what it's like, Lils? It's like when we went to see that play, and we stood at the stage door to get an autograph." Andy nodded knowingly when she saw Lily's look of recognition. "When Kate Mulgrew came out, how did you act?"

"Like a friggin idiot. I just hemmed and hawed and shuffled my feet. I felt like I was standing in a furnace. I was so hot, just waves of heat were rolling over me. I thought I was going to pass out. If you hadn't taken the playbill and asked for the autograph, I would have kept staring and drooling until she'd left." She chuckled at the memory.

"Well, actually, that is pretty much all you did," Andy said. She rubbed her arm and pouted in reaction to the elbow jab she received.

"So, that's how you felt around Miranda?" Lily asked.

"Well, yeah, most of the time. I just, I couldn't get it together. Even in Paris, I was running around frantically most of the time, and it got to be too much. I think if I had stayed, I might have gotten past that feeling, but I also think that realization scared me even more than making a fool of myself in front of her each day."

Lily raised her eyebrows in question. "You were scared to get over your infatuation?"

After a few moments of silent contemplation, Andy nodded. "Yep. I think I was. So I walked away. And that was that. Now I'll never know who she really is or whether I can string coherent sentences together while in her presence." Andy smiled. "Such is life."

They ate more of the pizza without conversation, each face sporting a thoughtful expression. After they'd eaten their fill and sat nursing their drinks, Lily turned to Andy. "You should write about that song and Miranda. It would do you good to get it out of your system. And only your professor will see it."

Andy started to object but stopped. Tilting her head, she thought about the idea. Lily might be right. Writing about that silly song might be just the thing to help her excise some of these demons. Or one devil at least. When Andy agreed, Lily smiled and hugged her tightly. "That's the spirit, Andy. Live dangerously—talk about the witch doctor's advice."

"I think maybe you're a witch doctor," Andy retorted.

"I resemble that!" Lily joked before draining her glass. In a falsetto voice she started to sing, "Ew-ee-ew-ah-ah…" Soon Andy joined in.

Song lyrics:

Witch Doctor by David Seville and sung by Alvin and the Chipmunks

I told the witch doctor I was in love with you  
I told the witch doctor I was in love with you  
And then the witch doctor, he told me what to do

He said that  
Ew-ee-ew-ah-ah, ting-tang-walla-walla-bing-bang  
Ew-ee-ew-ah-ah, ting-tang-walla-walla-bang-bang  
Ew-ee-ew-ah-ah, ting-tang-walla-walla-bing-bang  
Ew-ee-ew-ah-ah, ting-tang-walla-walla-bang-bang

I told the witch doctor you didn't love me true  
I told the witch doctor you didn't love me nice  
And then the witch doctor, he gave me his advice

He said that  
Ew-ee-ew-ah-ah, ting-tang-walla-walla-bing-bang  
Ew-ee-ew-ah-ah, ting-tang-walla-walla-bang-bang  
Ew-ee-ew-ah-ah, ting-tang-walla-walla-bing-bang  
Ew-ee-ew-ah-ah, ting-tang-walla-walla-bang-bang

You've been keepin' love from me just like you were a miser  
And I'll admit I wasn't very smart  
So I went out and found myself a guy who's so much wiser  
And he taught me the way to win your heart

My friend the witch doctor, he taught me what to say  
My friend the witch doctor, he taught me what to do  
I know that you'll be mine when I say this to you

Ew-ee-ew-ah-ah, ting-tang-walla-walla-bing-bang  
Ew-ee-ew-ah-ah, ting-tang-walla-walla-bang-bang  
Ew-ee-ew-ah-ah, ting-tang-walla-walla-bing-bang  
Ew-ee-ew-ah-ah, ting-tang-walla-walla-bang-bang

You've been keepin' love from me just like you were a miser  
And I'll admit I wasn't very smart  
So I went out and found myself a guy who's so much wiser  
And he taught me the way to win your heart

My friend the witch doctor, he taught me what to say  
My friend the witch doctor, he taught me what to do  
I know that you'll be mine when I say this to you, oh baby

Ew-ee-ew-ah-ah, ting-tang-walla-walla-bing-bang

Ew-ee-ew-ah-ah, ting-tang-walla-walla-bang-bang


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

Andy opened the door, magazine in hand. "Lily! Oh my fucking God! I can't, I can't even believe this!" Andy said brokenly as she began pacing. Lily closed the door and approached cautiously. Seeing this, Andy stopped and pointed at her. "This is all your fault! Of all the hair-brained, stupid suggestions—"

Lily held her hands in front of her in a placating gesture. "Now, Andy, slow down. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay."

"Nothing's going to be okay!" Andy wailed. "Have you looked at this?" Andy shook the _New Yorker_ in front of Lily's face. "Look at this!" Andy demanded. Lily took the magazine and sank onto the couch.

A month ago Lily had suggested Andy write about the song that reminded her of Miranda. She had suggested it would be a way for Andy to work through her unresolved emotions regarding her former employer, the silver-haired devil who still invaded her thoughts regularly. Although writing about the song, its meaning, and even her resulting conversation with Lily had felt cathartic, all those feelings were now overshadowed by sheer terror.

"I don't understand," Lily muttered. "How did it get published without your permission?" Lily looked up.

"Well, that's the thing. I was so consumed with writing the article that I forgot who my professor was. Is. He's an editor at the _New Yorker_. He had us sign waivers during our first class stating that any of our assignments could be published at his discretion. How could I be so stupid!" Andy dropped her face in her hands. "She's going to read this, and she's going to kill me. Eviscerate me. Humiliate me."

Lily sat beside Andy, rubbing her back soothingly. "That's better than nothing, though, isn't it?"

Andy looked at her with an incredulous expression. "Are you crazy?"

"No. Look, Andy. You haven't moved on. Maybe this will give you some closure. Either she will respond or ignore it. Either way, you've stepped forward and admitted that you're hung up on her. That you have been for years. If she doesn't respond, then you'll know that nothing will ever happen with her. Ever. If she does respond, well—you'll know where you stand, I'm sure."

Andy snorted. That was an understatement if she'd ever heard one. "I wasn't ready for this. I'm not ready to know one way or the other. I'm not ready to move on, to know I mean absolutely nothing to her. I, it's hard to let a dream go, Lily." She felt tears building and fought them angrily. She didn't want to cry. This was ridiculous. Her feelings were her own creation, her own stupidity. But now everyone knew. Worse, Miranda knew.

"Look on the bright side, Andy. You got published in the _New Yorker_," Lily chirped brightly. Andy gave her the dark, I-want-to-kill-you look she deserved.

"Don't. Don't tell me that one day we will look back on this and laugh, that it will be funny and interesting—"

"But, Andy, you don't know—" Lily tried to argue.

"Do you really think I'm going to send this, my first freelance article, to my parents? My friends? How do you think my former _Runway_ colleagues are going to react? How do you think my current coworkers are going to react? Do you have any idea just how fucked I am? I mean, I didn't even have time to bend over and get comfortable. I'm just—fucked."

Lily nodded, obviously defeated by Andy's superior interpretation of events and recognizing the truth in Andy's words.

"Fucked." Andy repeated grimly.

The last week had become so horrible, so indescribably tortuous that Andy could do nothing but keep her head down and pretend not to hear the comments. At work everyone looked at her as if she were a fascinating though odd-looking creature. Andy knew what they were thinking, what they didn't dare ask although they desperately wanted to know: how could she fall for Miranda Priestly? The editor's reputation for ruthlessly chewing up assistants and discarding them like tasteless gum after she'd sucked them dry was well-known. They couldn't figure out what a sweet, intelligent woman could have seen in such a beast.

They didn't know Miranda, though. They hadn't seen those moments of quiet strength when the press had tried to rip her apart or when Irv Ravitz had attempted to remove her from her position or when the person she was supposed to be able to trust had delivered divorce papers during the most important week of the year. Andy still felt bad that she had added to Miranda's burdens that week by quitting her job without notice. Yet, Miranda had soldiered on that week and the next and the next. She had held on to her position, kept the press at bay, and lived life under constant scrutiny, all while seeming to not care about the misfortunes, challenges, and changes that had swirled around her.

That strength of character, that ability to continue while confronted with adversity—those were merely a couple of the reasons why Andy had admired and continued to be enthralled by Miranda.

Andy had no intention of explaining herself to anyone, though. Certainly not to her colleagues. Nor to Emily or Nigel or Serena, all who had contacted her to berate her and congratulate her on her ballsy-ness, as well as warn her that Miranda had seen the article. Well, of course she had seen the article. It was in the fucking _New Yorker_. Everyone had seen it, read it, shaken their heads in wonder and bewilderment. Even her parents had seen it, and boy, had they been surprised. Andy wouldn't discuss it with anyone, however, not even her Mom and Dad. They had realized, after seeing Andy's face splashed all across various gossip rags, that Andy did not need to be badgered by people who loved her. They had relented. Her friends had relented. Life continued.

Finishing her last article for the day, Andy uploaded it to the _Mirror_'s server, releasing it to the copywriting and fact checking department. Soon she would push through the photographers, hop on the subway, and return to her apartment for some well-earned peace and quiet. Lily had invited her to some art gallery extravaganza across town, but Andy's nerves were a bit too exposed, her shield a bit too battered for her to want to appear in public.

Checking her email one more time before she logged out, Andy gasped, looking around furtively to make sure no one was paying attention to her. She did not want an audience as her world changed, yet again. Andy stared at the email addressee's name for a long time. A long time. She did not want to open it. She had to open it. She owed it to herself to open it. She didn't want to open it.

With a huff, Andy opened it.

**Subject: **New Yorker article

**Date:** October 28, 2008

**To: ASachs **

**From: MPriestly **

For some reason, thoughts of you bring the song Witchy Woman to mind. Your article has shed light on your feelings and forced me to confront mine. Even those few words you had managed to throw my way while under my employ were enough to bind me.

Do you believe you can string together enough words, now, Andrea?

Andy read it. Then she read it again. As Miranda's meaning thawed Andy's frozen mind, she began to tremble. This was not a negative response. At all. This was, holy shit, this was positive. This was Miranda accepting Andy's feelings. This was acknowledging she had feelings for Andy. How should she reply?

**Subject: **Stringing words together

**Date:** October 28, 2008

**To: MPriestly **

**From: ASachs **

Although I have no doubt you will continue to leave me speechless, scrambling to give voice to feelings I have guarded closely for years, I promise to communicate in other ways to reinforce those bindings. Are you willing to help me with this problem of becoming tongue-tied while in your presence, perhaps by indulging in some lingual exercises?

Not quite believing she was trading emails with Miranda or that she was not-so-subtly propositioning her, Andy hit send and sat back to wait. She thought of the lyrics of Witchy Woman. Andy desperately wanted to sleep in the devil's bed, she wanted to cast a spell on Miranda, she wanted to rock Miranda in the nighttime. Oh, yeah.

It seemed incredible that Miranda has thought of her at all, never mind that she had harbored feelings about Andy that needed to be confronted. Andy had bound Miranda? How was that possible? And how was she supposed to be coherent while in Miranda's presence now?

Andy would just have to figure out a way. She'd find a way.

**Subject:** Lingual exercises

**Date:** October 28, 2008

**To: ASachs **

**From: MPriestly **

Interesting. Is that what they call it nowadays? I'd rather just kiss you until you pass out. Come over tonight at eight. No witch doctors. Just your bewitching presence. And a change of clothes.

Laughing with joy not to mention a healthy dose of incredulity, Andy sent a quick email agreeing and scampered out of the building. The paparazzi no longer bothered her. She smiled brightly as she strode toward the subway. She couldn't wait to call Lily with the news. Her friend was going to flip.

Miranda wanted to kiss her. No, Miranda wanted to kiss her until she passed out. Andy had some desires of her own she was determined to explore with the silver-haired devil. Eloquent or not, Andy would communicate her feelings. She'd make sure of it.

At ten before eight, Andy ascended the townhouse steps. She grasped the straps of her James Holt bag tightly. Soft ebony leather, the oversized bag held a change of clothes and her make-up. Andy had every intention of staying the night.

Two red-haired teenagers greeted her at the door. They wore woolen jackets over designer jeans and cashmere sweaters. "Hi," said the one on the left. "I'm Cassidy. That's Caroline. Mom will be down in a sec."

"Hi," Andy answered, pulling off her jacket. Caroline took it, hanging it in the closet. "It's nice to see you. Um, how are you?" Andy knew it was lame, but what did you ask middle school kids?

"Good," Caroline answered. "This way." Caroline led Andy to the den while Cassidy followed behind them. "Mom told us you used to work for her."

"You got us the Harry Potter book," Cassidy added. As if Andy had forgotten. "She said you're a reporter at the _Mirror_." Andy nodded.

"That's cool. Not that I would do that. But someone has to," Caroline pronounced. Cassidy nodded her agreement.

"How's school?" Andy asked as she gingerly sat on a leather wingback chair. The girls remained standing.

"Good," Cassidy answered. "I'm playing soccer and the clarinet."

"I'm playing the piano and taking gymnastics," Caroline chimed in.

"Oh. That's great. I, I thought you both played the piano," Andy ventured.

"We did, but I wanted to switch. She plays it better than me, anyway," Cassidy said.

They heard the staccato rhythm of heels on hardwood floors. Miranda was approaching. Caroline leaned forward. "She said we'll be seeing a lot more of you, so maybe you can get her to come to some of my meets."

"Or to some of my games," Cassidy added. They both looked at Andy imploringly. Andy nodded.

"I'll try," she promised. They seemed content with her answer.

"Girls, Roy is waiting outside. Be good for your father. I'll talk to you tomorrow." Miranda kissed each girl on the cheek, smiling slightly at the tight hugs she received from each.

"Bye, Mom."

"Love you, Mom."

Andy and Miranda stared at each other as they listened to the teens run across the hall and slam the front door. The house echoed with their exiting noises as Miranda stepped closer. Then all Andy could hear was white noise. Andy stood up quickly, blinking rapidly as she watched Miranda's lips move. She couldn't hear a thing. Andy placed a hand on her forehead, convinced she was experiencing a sudden, life-ending fever. It was so hot, she was so hot. Jesus. She was melting and her ears no longer worked and she was having trouble focusing.

A cool hand on the nape of her neck brought her back. "Andrea," Miranda whispered. Those eyes, bright, sparkling, dark-blue eyes, told her it was all right, told her she understood, told her she cared, too. Andy took a deep breath. Then another one. She began to feel extremely foolish. How absurd she was to react this way. Miranda was just a person, someone who wanted to spend time with her. And she was mucking it up, acting like a schoolgirl. Andy looked away. Why in the world would Miranda want anything to do with her?

"I'm, I'm sorry, Miranda." Andy shook her head. "Here I am acting like a witless wonder." Andy sighed in defeat. "I just can't seem to function around you."

Miranda's chuckle pulled Andy's gaze upward to meet amused eyes. "Apparently not. However, I have a solution for that." Before Andy could ask for clarification, she found her lips otherwise occupied.

Andy breathed in deeply, her entire focus on the soft lips brushing slowly against hers. Andy tasted mint and coffee. Better yet, she tasted Miranda. So addictive. Andy thought of caramel and roses and puffy clouds. Sweet and pure and fluffy. Andy yielded willingly, joyfully, instructing herself to remember every texture, every small movement, every blessed second because she was heating up again, and she knew what that meant: she was, indeed, going to die of that life-ending fever.

But now she didn't mind because she would be experiencing her last moments in Miranda's surprisingly strong arms, feeling those elegant hands weaving through her hair as those lips, lips that normally released such lethal verbal barbs, gently persuaded Andy to give in, give up. Andy moaned her consent.

Andy whimpered when Miranda pulled back slightly to gaze into Andy's eyes. "Please don't stop, Miranda," Andy pleaded softly. "I'm not quite unconscious yet, but I assure you I am well on my way." Miranda's husky laugh took Andy by surprise. Sexy and low, it resonated deep in Andy's belly, making her shiver with anticipation.

"You see, Andrea, already you are communicating much more clearly." Miranda smiled fully before swooping in for another kiss.

These kisses were much different. Whereas the last set of kisses served as an introduction, a mellow meshing of lips, these kisses were firmer, more passionate, much more intense. Andy thought of toffee and calla lilies and feather pillows. Textured and complex and layered. Andy parted her lips, wanting to taste each moment, wanting to swallow Miranda's sweet breath in to her lungs, to fill up every part of her body with that precious air.

How extraordinary, how delicious. Miranda seemed to understand what Andy wanted, what she needed. And now Andy realized that she wasn't dying, she was living. She finally felt alive after two years of suspended animation. Miranda was breathing life into her.

Andy pulled Miranda closer, pressed their lips together more firmly, and poured all her words into that kiss, that unimaginable, all-consuming kiss. God, how she needed her. This just couldn't be the only time she'd get to feel Miranda in her arms, it just couldn't be a momentary lapse in Miranda's judgment, a wild what-the-hell decision.

That would be absolutely heartbreaking.

Andy nearly climbed inside Miranda's body—she would have if it were possible. She groaned long and loud when Miranda's began sucking on her lower lip. She might have felt embarrassed if not for the way Miranda growled and sucked more forcefully. Those lovely hands, those gorgeous capable hands, held her head captive, but oh so tenderly. Andy felt Miranda's thumbs stroking her cheekbones, slowly, hypnotically. But Andy couldn't concentrate on those fingers. She couldn't process anything other than her lips and her breath and her, oh, oh, my God! Andy shuddered at the first meeting of their tongues. A bolt of arousal chased through her body, and Andy panicked as her knees buckled. Miranda held on tightly, though, so tightly as she guided Andy to the lounge.

They broke apart for just a moment, just long enough for Andy to lie down and for Miranda to cover her. Lips found lips once more, and Andy felt as if they had been parted for millennia, eons—she had missed this feeling so much. So much. Andy could do nothing but groan and pull Miranda closer. Closer, she had to get closer. Andy felt nearly frantic with her need. But it was okay because Miranda understood. She must understand. How could she not understand?

The thought of never feeling Miranda lying on top of her, of never feeling those lips kissing her, loving her, branding her—Andy tried to shove away those thoughts. She didn't want to succumb to her fears. She didn't want to miss a moment of this by wondering about the future. Caroline and Cassidy had indicated that Andy would be coming around, right? Surely that meant Miranda would invite her back.

All Andy's thoughts disintegrated when Miranda stopped, gently wiping away Andy's tears. "Andrea?" she whispered, concern shining through those storm-tossed eyes.

"I, please, Miranda. Please." Andy closed her eyes as she pulled Miranda toward her. Andy took control of the kiss, exploring the roof of Miranda's mouth and memorizing the texture of her gums. She allowed her tongue to rest on Miranda's tongue for a moment before sliding against it. She felt Miranda tremble and reveled in her power. Andy's hands threaded through the silver hair, so well-known and to Andy so sensual.

Andy was ready now. She understood now. She hadn't allowed herself to hope, to dream, to fantasize. Not really. Erotic dreams didn't count—it's not like she consciously created them. No, all her dreams had been ephemeral and diaphanous. Nothing could have come close to this. But now she knew.

Andy moved her hands to massage Miranda's neck and shoulders. God, she felt wonderful. Her body, Andy needed this body to move against hers. Miranda ended the kiss and rested her forehead against Andy's collarbone. "Andrea," she murmured. She took deep breaths as her body sank into Andy's. It felt heavenly. Andy continued to rub her shoulders. Miranda let out a soft moan.

Miranda looked up, focusing on Andy as she braced her arms on Andy's chest. "You are positively addictive." She moved a hand to touch Andy's swollen lower lip, smiling when Andy kissed it. "We have quite a bit of catching up to do." Miranda leaned forward to kiss Andy gently. "Stay with me tonight?"

Sunshine and fireworks, waterfalls and crackling firewood filled Andy's senses. Stay? Miranda wanted her to stay? "Yes! Of course!" Andy hugged Miranda fiercely, overcome with relief. Miranda chuckled into her chest, kissing the skin revealed by the v-neck sweater. Andy loosened her grip, running her fingers down Miranda's sides to rest on shapely hips.

"Good. I realize it's not quite the witching hour, but I find myself under your spell. Whatever will you do with me?" Miranda asked as her lips grazed the sensitive skin behind Andy's ear. Shuddering, Andy stretched her neck back, inviting Miranda to continue exploring.

"I, oh God, Miranda. I can hardly think around you as it is. Do you really expect me to talk now?" Andy rolled her hips, gasping when a thigh fell between her legs, pressing against her center. Miranda lifted herself over Andy, tilting her lower body so they fit together perfectly.

Seductive lips barely touched Andy's ear. "You'll just have to make your meaning clear in other ways. So far you've conveyed your feelings quite acceptably." Andy would have replied, but that magnificent tongue filled her ear, throwing her senses into chaos. Andy could not think.

"Holy shit!" Andy said, placing her hands on Miranda's ass and pulling forward as she arched upward. "I need, I need. Oh, fuck."

"Such language, Andrea. Do you always speak this way in bed?" Miranda murmured. She sucked on an earlobe as her hands began exploring Andy's chest.

"No. I, Jesus, Miranda! You're driving me crazy. And I want…I want you so much." Andy groaned her frustration as she tried to capture Miranda's wicked hands. Miranda eluded her, resuming her tortuous actions of cupping Andy's breasts and pulling on her nipples. "Aah! Just like that," Andy surrendered. "That feels so good."

Kneading Miranda's firm ass, Andy began thrusting her hips as she pulled Miranda nearer, setting a steady rhythm. Miranda abandoned her handwork, preferring to place her hands underneath Andy's sweater and slide them up her ribcage. Andy panted and slammed her eyes shut. Miranda tore Andy's sweater over her head, quickly followed by her bra. Not wanting to miss a moment, Andy forced her eyes open and adjusted her head so she could watch. Miranda shot her tongue out to trace a path up Andy's sternum, her eyes filled with desire. "I've wanted you for so long. Andrea, my sweet seductress. You have no idea how completely you have bewitched me. How much I have wanted to be close to you." Andy shouted out as Miranda's lips covered her breast.

"Miranda! Oh, Miranda," Andy sobbed. She was going to pass out. No, she was going to explode into a million pieces. And then pass out. Or maybe she was going to implode. Feeling Miranda's lips cover her other breast, Andy gave up trying to figure it out.

Swiftly, Andy pulled Miranda's blouse from her waistband and slid her hands up her back. So silky. More muscular than she had imagined. Sexy. Everything about Miranda was sexy. Seductive. Erotic. "I need to feel your skin against mine," Andy said throatily. Feeling Miranda lift up, Andy watched as she removed her blouse and bra expediently. Andy felt the wind knocked out of her. Breathtaking. Gorgeous. "You are magnificent," Andy sighed reverently. She reached up hesitantly to cup Miranda's breasts. Her eyes filled with tears. "Miranda," she whispered.

"Mmm, Andrea. You feel divine." Miranda rolled her hips as she leaned into Andy's hands. Andy leaned up to catch a breast with her mouth. Miranda panted as she thrust against Andy forcefully.

Andy sucked on the luscious breast while pulling on the other nipple. She moaned loudly as she met Miranda's body thrust for thrust. Calling out, Andy pulled Miranda's lips to hers. They shared a steamy kiss before Miranda pulled away with a gasp. "An-dray-ya!" she cried ardently. Andy watched bright eyes widen then close as ecstasy overtook Miranda. That sight coupled with how wonderful Miranda felt moving against her was enough to push Andy over the edge.

Soon supple lips covered hers tenderly, soothingly, full of promises and declarations neither knew how to voice just yet. Andy basked in Miranda's affection. They slowed their undulations as they continued to kiss. _Miranda is a superb kisser. _Andy felt spent, but she didn't want to stop, didn't want to miss one moment. Miranda moved her lips over Andy's jaw line, sucking lightly before lowering them to Andy's jumping pulse. Licking Andy's throat, Miranda nibbled as she hummed her pleasure. Andy held Miranda to her like the most delicate, precious being. Because she was. And always would be.

"I won't hold it against you if you pass out now," Miranda murmured as she snuggled into Andy's body. "As a matter of fact, I don't believe I'll be able to remain cognizant for much longer."

"Oh, thank God! I just need a moment. Or two." Andy felt Miranda's chuckle more than heard it. She smiled into silver hair resting just beneath her chin. "I still expect to sleep in the devil's bed," Andy whispered.

Miranda lifted her head up to gaze at Andy. "As you should, Andrea. I expect this spell you have placed on me will not fade any time soon. Hopefully, you are similarly bewitched." For the first time Miranda seemed uncertain.

"Are you kidding? I've been under your spell since the day we met." Andy ran her fingers lightly down Miranda's swan-neck. With a pleased sigh, Miranda lowered her head back to Andy's chest, delivering an open-mouthed kiss as she closed her eyes.

"Well, you can prove just how enchanted you are soon enough." Andy tightened her arms in a secure embrace before closing her eyes. They popped open when Miranda spoke again. "After all, I believe you have a goal in mind." Her eyes gleamed. "I am fully expecting that you will deliver on…oh, what were the charming words you used? Something about fucking me until I pass out in a frothing heap of sweaty, satiated bliss."

"Wha? How do you? I never said!" Andy sputtered.

Miranda closed her eyes once more, a small smirk gracing her face. "Magic," she whispered. "That's—" Andy quickly leaned down to capture those wicked words.

Song lyrics:

Witchy Woman by Don Henley and sung by the Eagles

Raven hair and ruby lips  
Sparks fly from her finger tips  
Echoed voices in the night  
She's a restless spirit on an endless flight

Wooo hooo witchy woman, see how  
High she flies  
Woo hoo witchy woman she got  
The moon in her eye

She held me spellbound in the night  
Dancing shadows and firelight  
Crazy laughter in another room  
and she drove herself to madness  
With a silver spoon

Woo hoo witchy woman see how high she flies  
Woo hoo witchy woman she got the moon in her eye

I know you wanna love her,  
Let me tell you brother, she's been sleeping  
In the devil's bed.  
And there's some rumors going round  
Someone's underground  
She can rock you in the nighttime  
'til your skin turns red

Woo hoo witchy woman  
See how high she flies  
Woo hoo witchy woman  
She got the moon in her eye


End file.
